The Siren Song
by Elphaba'sGirl
Summary: "I learned to play the flute when I was ten; my brother taught me. He was desperate. He had to hear the song again. To this day, the crazed look in his eye haunts me."


**Hey fandom! I don't know what possessed me to do this... But ever it is! Don't own TLM, and enjoy!**

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The siren song is beautiful. It's like... A hypnotic anthology of the ocean's secrets.

I haven't heard it in three years. It only makes sense, I suppose, that I heard it when I may have drowned. I've been assured that it is normal. That hearing things in my condition was normal. Even, I suppose, that hallucinating was normal...

But... I saw her. I felt her breath on my skin. Her hair, damp and thick across my forehead... Hallucinations can't be that beautiful.

And, still, I've never heard the siren song _sung_ before. I couldn't hallucinate something like that.

Now, I find myself playing the siren song on my flute, the music swelling around me and driving the truth home once again; I saw her. I know I did.

I haven't played the siren song in three years. It feels good to hear the clear notes piercing the cold night, and I can almost picture her face...

I learned to play the flute when I was ten; my brother taught me. He was desperate. He _had_ to hear the song again. To this day, the crazed look in his eye haunts me. I remember that day perfectly. Eerily so. I can look back in the memory and see how he had one of his blond curls creeping over his brow, falling into his ice blue eyes, and how he had a thin gash on his jawline (this had come from an accident two days prior involving a sword and a visiting duke that I really shouldn't go into).

He looked me in the eye (his were wide and wild and stormy green), and said, "Eric, I need you to learn to play," and his voice was deep and gruff as I'd never heard it before.

And- because he was my brother- I did it for him. I learned. I learned to play traditional folk songs and long, complex ballads, and still, he didn't tell me why he needed me to learn. He promised he'd tell me soon.

He checked in on my progress little by little; every day, it seemed, he'd come to me and have me play for him.

Then he had me learn the siren song.

It was a haunting melody that resonated in my chest, but, as a ten year old, it held no special meaning for me.

Of course, the siren song wasn't a song I could find written music for. My brother hummed it to me, hundreds of times, until I figured out the notes.

I played it for him every day. And, every day, his eyes would glaze over and he'd whisper words that meant nothing, to people who weren't there.

After I'd known the siren song for six months, my brother started to get sick. He fell into this dreamlike state sometimes, like he was possessed, and I remember a servant girl coming to fetch me. She told me, "Your brother won't wake up; you need to play for him."

And I'd play the siren song, and he would wake up, and then, he would smile. I was the only one who could make him smile then.

I played nearly constantly for three months. The same siren song, over and over and over again, simply so my brother wouldn't break.

"Eric," my mother would say, "John is at the beach again. You need to play for him."

And I'd go down to the beach and play for him, always the siren song. We worried that he'd drown, if we left him there too long. He was oddly drawn to the water, just as he was drawn to the music.

I played day and night, until others worried for my sanity.

I was only concerned with his. And so I played.

It only occurred to me later, that the siren song itself, which seemed to have calming effects, might have nurtured this strange state that he had lapsed into.

"Eric, John needs you." And I would go to play for him.

John was twenty- and I fifteen- when he started telling me stories. He would read from our texts on mythology, adapting the myths and legends, spinning tales of merpeople and true love.

"Eric, Triton's daughters are so beautiful. There are eight of them. Eight beautiful daughters. And they all sing the siren song. They gather on the rocks and sing the song. Have you heard them? No? Eric, it's beautiful. The sing all together... They used to. Now only the eldest. Her name is Aria. She has long, dark hair, and bright green eyes... Eric I love her. She's perfect. She's got the most beautiful voice... And she's so kind. And I love her. Eric, I'm in love. Eric, play the siren song."

And I'd play the siren song.

Two weeks later, my brother was lost at sea. It was very stormy. People said King Triton was suffering. I don't know about that. It was like Triton had died, maybe.

Or maybe John had died. Maybe, Triton mourned for those lost at sea.

I don't know what possessed our parents to let him out there, what with the beach's haunting effect on him, (perhaps they thought the fresh air would do him good, though I'd long given up on his recovery), but he was gone.

I wondered what happened to him. Drowned, most likely. But mostly I wondered about Aria, who he claimed to love.

They were both lost to the sea, and soon after I found books on mythology, which taught me about Triton and his _seven_ daughters. I couldn't help but wonder what happened to the eighth.

I nearly gave up playing the flute altogether, for it reminded me of him, but soon I started hearing it again.

"Eric, your mother is ill. Come play her a song."

"Eric, play for the court."

"Eric, make us smile again."

I came to resent the instrument, and yet I kept it. It kept it and kept playing, but never played the siren song.

Now... It's all I can play. And when I play it I hear her voice. And the castle is like it was when John was here. Full of haunting melodies and visions.

I wonder if I am like John. If I seem detached, possessed, and enchanted. Enchanted. That is the right word. Or perhaps infatuated.

I am playing the siren song now, the diamond notes skipping like stones across the water, before vanishing forever beneath the waves, sinking softly, slowly, gently, down into the vast ocean; into the fathoms below.

I hope my siren can hear them. I know, though, that she can't. I walk to the water, and it's salty smoothness glides over my bare feet. It's too cold to be out at night like this, I know. But I wade out even farther, the glittering ocean lapping at my legs. The cuffs of my rolled-up trousers are wet salty. I breathe in the night air and walk farther out.

Farther. And farther. And farther. I'm up past my knees in freezing waters. I begin to play the siren song once again. The notes lodge themselves in my brain, and I shiver.

I can taste the salt on the air... I can feel her hand on my face.

She saved my life. She sang to me.

I sigh and continue the song.

_What would I give to be where you are?_

I am alone in the night, the cool air soothing my burning skin.

I _am_ like John, I realize. On the verge of insanity, possessed by the memory of a girl whose voice haunts me day and night, sneaks its way into my brain while I try to behave normally. She's walked all over every aspect of my traditional life. She's left footprints in my mind that won't wear with time._  
_

_What would I pay to stay here beside you?_

I feel closer to her in the water. It's like she's a part of the ocean. Like she's... Everywhere. She's in my head. She's... In the water. She's in my heart.

_What would I do to see you smiling at me?_

I've spent many sleepless nights like this. Since my accident, everyone around the castle has taken up a never-ending refrain of, "Eric, you really should sleep," "Eric, this isn't healthy," "Eric, we can't lose you like we did John."

But, they're wrong. They just don't know it. I am already lost. Lost to her.

John was too. Long before he disappeared. We just held on too long.

We are both lost. There's no hope for my brother. There wasn't, ever after his siren stopped singing.

I am only lost until she's found. And I'll spend every day until then searching.

The siren song fills my ears, and I lose myself in it, as I have every night since the accident.

I wonder if she feels lost, too. If she ever thinks of me.


End file.
